Star Wars: The Waning Light
by Justice For Gary
Summary: After the Empire's defeat, Luke Skywalker's Jedi Praxeum issued in a new Jedi Order. Believing the Sith to finally be defeated, the Order began to regrow. During a short time of peace, an ancient evil awakes from a long slumber that threatens the Galaxy. As new faces appear on both sides, a new struggle for victory ensues. (An alternate beginning at the end of the original series.)
1. Prologue

The descending starship bellowed through the dry, stormy atmosphere of the barren desert planet. This was not a place where life thrived, nor faltered. It was in a state of constant homeostasis. Only feral beasts could survive off other smaller beasts that scampered to their crevices as his ship skid across the tops of dunes, knocking sand into the air behind it and found its place on a cracked patch near the faded walls of a ziggurat structure. Hidden away beneath a millennium of sand, the presence of the dark side was strong and made the hair of his arms stand up like needles out of a thornball's back. He exited his ship, wrapping a cloth around his face as protection. The boiling sun scorched his feet almost through his own boots and he hurried to the entrance, leading to a mysterious darkness. His lightsaber clung by a notch in his pants, feeling heavier than normal. His kyber crystal gaining substantial weight as the power of the Force oozed from the ziggurat; almost like it had taken on a burden in the Force. He ignited it and went into the darkness.

In the pitch black, the hue of the lightsaber illuminated the stone hallway, sending cascading shadows across a dry, cracked floor. The dark side clouded the mind of the young man as he was guided by another force, enveloping his mind and whispering to him to _push on, push on_.

His hand was steady, and he was not afraid. Each step sent an echo into the swirling void, his mind forming an illusion of shapes and twisted faces from his past from the black canvas.

He felt like he had been traversing the corridor for hours, but he could not tell in truth. The sound of a wind came at what he assumed was the end of the hallway and he caught his breath. He came onto a precipice of nothing but empty space for as far as he could sense. Across that nothingness was the source of his dark guide, a twinkle of something at the other end of the crevice. He closed his eyes and reached out to the hum of the environment, full of negative energy. An artificial shadow suppressed the Light from within. _Push on, push on, young one. Fulfill… Your… Destiny..._

The Force showed him the way, a ledge off the cliff and a narrow walkway over the sprawling chasm that lead to the courtyard of the insidious temple. The faint blue light of his lightsaber grew darker with each approaching step. It was soundless and unthinkable in magnitude, an abandoned foundation of dark knowledge that drew him closer and closer to the stone staircase leading up to the pantheon-like structure. He was no longer using his eyes, but his mind to guide him to the large doors. They were wooden, carved with hundreds of articulate scenes of Sith history spanning millennia. The Jedi reached out to feel it, but before he touched it with his hands, he recoiled.

It made him sick in the gut. It was as if he was traversing into another universe devoid of all the familiarities of reality. He could hear the voice beckoning him in and he shoved the sickness in his stomach to the back of his mind as he pushed the doors open with a struggling concentration of Force power. Dust dropped from the tall wooden doors like a wave from the sea and covered him, causing him to gasp and cough with ferociousness.

He took notice at the now absence of echo, in which a power had sucked the air from the atmosphere behind him and it had been following him the entire time. Inside, he saw a light glow. He looked back for the first time in a long time and finally entered the cold crepuscular embrace within. The door behind him shut and he was alone in an anti-chamber that stank of death and hatred. He lost sight of the twinkle, but there was a glow emanating from behind a massive statue situated at the back of the stone sarcophagus. As single beam of light drew from an unknown source, it was spotlighting an empty stone throne. On the throne was carved more fantastical images of dark sorcery, and on the ground in front of it was an ancient weapon that had withstood the test of time for over a millennium.

Suddenly, the lightsaber in his hand shot from his grasp, nearly tearing off his fingers. It spun in the air, creating a blue storm of light that tricked the eye, turning it into a perfect disk of hot plasma. It hit peak velocity and exploded before his eyes, sending molten hot bits of kyber and metal scattering across the floor. In the absolute darkness, he pulled his arm from his eyes and felt a fear unlike anything he had ever experienced in his entire life.

He dropped to his knees.

_Welcome…_


	2. I

"Focus, Rosan!"

Master Tel'Mar sprouted from his hovering observer-chair. The afternoon sun began to partially hide behind the temple steeple. The padawan steadied his training blade in his hands, the practice droid met his gaze with gold, calculated mechanisms that served for ocular receptors.

"The droid will not go easy on you. Let us see if all that talk in the classroom is true."

He hoped it was. Rosan should have known his teacher would call his bluff and put him to the test. In the middle of his galactic studies course, he bravely pouted that he would become the greatest swordsman the Order had seen since Grandmaster Skywalker himself. The girls laughed and the boys sighed, but Master Tel'Mar looked down on him and raised a hand to cease the commotion, asking Rosan to meet him in the courtyard after class for rudimentary training. Somehow, he sensed that this was the straw that broke the tauntaun's back. He had been flunking his academic courses and grew a fondness for mouthing off to his superiors.

A teenage angst had overcome him when he arrived at the temple with Master Janus three years prior and had only grown more feverous as time went on. Rosan, a fifteen-year-old scamp was taken away from a world of poverty on the Mid-rim planet of Miztoc for a position in the ranks of the new Jedi Order during a search for force-sensitives. From early in his life, he could never mistake the call of the Force that others did not have. Yet mastering this sensation was still only a dream in his mind, never realistically applying it to his own story. Yavin IV, the Praxeum, and all the bustle of the recently installed academy had taken him by surprise when he first arrived with bright eyes. The Jedi were things of legend back on Miztoc. His home-world was liberated by the Alliance three years before his birth, but the Order was supposedly extinct and constant reinforcement of the idea of this extinction was paraded through the Empire's propaganda that had once adorned every wall and street screen. The shock to learn that this was not true, but the work of evil that had grasped the Galaxy for decades was hard to swallow for the newly anointed initiate. Janus told him he need not worry his mind with the past; as it was just that.

The droid waited for the padawan to make the first move. Taking a _Shii-Cho_ stance, he gave the droid a quick slash which was easily deflected. Rosan smiled slightly as the droid faltered for a moment to recover but was caught off-guard by the flurry of sweeping strikes. Rosan backed away from the _Ataru_ dance and looked to his master with annoyance. Tel'Mar sat stonily, rubbing his chin. Dodging the strikes and sweeps with all his ability, the padawan managed to only get a few weak blows in before being battered on the left thigh with the searing heat that left his skin slightly blistered. The training blade found its target again on his left shoulder and swooped down to his right calf. Rosan yelped out in pain and fell over on his backside, his weapon scattering across the ground. He glanced up as the droid prepared to come down with a strike on top of his head, quickly rolling backwards and pushing himself back onto his feet with a vaulting handstand.

The droid looked up from where his blade hit the chalky ground and barreled towards him. He looked to his right as called for his blade to return to him with a pull of force energy, reaching his off-hand just in time. He braced for impact and blocked the droids slash, entering a saber lock.

_Impressive, padawan. Very impressive, _the Master thought.

Rosan struggled to battle the strength of the droid, but its level was set higher than he ever would have thought for a budding Jedi to overcome. He was losing ground. Breaking free from the lock, the droid swept him off his feet again with a kick of its metal leg against his and this time there was no escape. The droid brought down the training tool to his chest but stopped right before it managed to pierce his robe. Rosan lay sweating, opening one eye when the singeing heat never came. Quickly, he channeled a quick push of the force that sent the droid twirling off the ground a few feet and lending on its face. Master Tel'Mar stood up and approached his student. Rosan stood with his eyes to the ground, head bowed.

Tel'Mar looked with curiosity. His brown skin and dark, curly hair glimmered in the sun, contrasting his robes of creamy white and glistening teal. He spoke in a monotone voice.

"See those wounds tended too, Rosan. I want to see you at the library come dusk. I have something to show you," Tel'Mar's voice was low and methodical as it always was. He bowed to Rosan and headed towards the magnificent temple where other Jedi were conversing between its pillars. Rosan wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned back towards the dormitories, but not before giving the deactivated droid a slight kick with his foot in anger.

Rosan entered the Great Library with slight hesitation. He never liked these ominous meetings, as they either ended with a scolding or a long-winded lesson from his teacher; not knowing which one he thought was more of a punishment. Spanning multiple floors filled with aisles of retained Jedi knowledge, the Great Library was the second archival initiative the Jedi Order had taken since the retaking of the Jedi Archives on Coruscant. Master Tel'Mar stood at the end of one of the aisles, conversing with deputy linguist Ho-Gun Zal on some matter. Master Zal was a tall man with jet black hair, long enough to be tied in a neat tail that ended halfway down his back. His lightsaber was more of a symbol of respect rather than a defense weapon, as he spent most of his time buried in the databases rather than on a battlefield.

Tel'Mar peered over Ho-Gun's shoulder and noticed his apprentice as Rosan greeted him. Ho-Gun turned to the boy and bowed as well, his towering figure overlooking Rosan like a wroshyr tree.

"Master Tel'Mar told me quite the story, padawan. You lasted longer than my apprentice on that difficulty setting. I'm very impressed!"

"Thank you, Master Zal. It was the _Atura_ stance that caught me off guard, I am still only beginning my Form II training. That droid wouldn't have lasted a minute if it had been a _fair _fight," Rosan said, glaring at Tel'Mar.

"Well, at least the other students were not there to see it. After what your master has told me, you talked up quite a storm in your last class."

Tel'Mar sighed, "I believe it is time I show young Rosan why I had him do that in the first place, Ho-Gun. Good luck sorting out the new data transfer from Coruscant, I heard they are bringing the next thousand volumes of _The Histories of the Way_ and they need some unscrambling. Imperial propaganda took quite a toll on it."

"Correct. I will let you know as soon as the first dozen volumes are done and ready to read at your pleasure, Master. May the Force be with you."

"And with you," Tel'Mar said and bowed his head. "Come with me, padawan."

They walked through the doors leading to the back atrium where only a few students sat at various tables, reading. They paid no mind to the pair as they walked to the back of the room. They came upon a closed door that Tel'Mar opened with press of a few buttons on the command consol. Rosan sensed a slight nervousness in his master but was not fully sure. He had always had trouble reading the emotions and thoughts of others. The Force spoke to him in a way like an infant speaks to an adult, barely understandable, but still possible to make out words. He practiced every night in his meditation, but it was a slow process.

They came upon a dark room, illuminated by a faint glow from above, the room was no bigger than a small closet, but in the center sat a glimmering cube of blue and green, a holocron under a glass case upon a podium. Tel'Mar shifted towards it while Rosan waited in the doorway to see what was going to happen. Tel'Mar took the cube from under the glass and beckoned his student to come closer with a waving hand. Rosan step forward as the door shut behind him and approached him. The holocron sat in his master's cupped hands.

"Rosan, this holocron contains a painful, but important truth that all Jedi must follow. Instilled by the Grandmaster himself, it is a tenant of the Jedi Code we all live each day. Something you have seemed to be struggling with the day you started training as a youngling. It is _pride_, my padawan. Pride is a prime evil that leads down a path of darkness. There is no pride in a Jedi, only servitude to the light."

Rosan rolled his eyes.

"I can sense that this bores you young one, but this is a lesson you will remember for the rest of your days - Serving others instead of taking for personal gain. Doing deeds that offer no rewards, selflessness that offers no comfort, these are the things that make the Order a beacon in a world of grey."

Rosan shifted his posture and tensed up slightly.

"But Master, we have already talked about this. I know that once I finally have my lightsaber I- "

Tel'Mar cut him off, "That is not what a Jedi strives for… This holocron contains the consequences of one such Jedi and his temptation that lead down a bath of destruction. We reserve this for knight initiates as a final reminder before they go out into the galaxy and represent our Order, but I think it is proper to show you now so that you may realize the damage this sin can cause."

Tel'Mar pressed on the mechanism and it made a mechanic whirl while an exploding glow of light shot from all six sides of the cube. It filled the dimly lit room with energy that took the form of a holographic scenario on the podium where two figures appeared. One was on his knees whilst the other stood behind him. He did not recognize either of the figures but continued to watch as a scene played put.

The figure standing behind the kneeling man was in all black, a cape draped over his shoulders and a mask covered his face, but he could sense the figure was not of the light. It was a Sith lord interrogating the man. The Sith raised his hand and the man levitated off the ground, clutching at his throat while the masked figure began to speak:

"After all this time, you still never learned that a Jedi cannot hide his true self, even after cutting himself from the fabric of the Force. Renouncing your biological call is the _coward's_ way and it will serve no one who is truly worthy to wield its power. My master has orchestrated the eradication of your Order and fulfilled the destiny of the dark side. Weak philosophies are overcome with the might of will, strength, and emotion, my old friend. I only wish you had seen that when I offered you the chance…"

The masked figure closed his fist, clearly cutting off any air from the floating man's windpipe. His legs began kicking at nothing while one arm outstretched towards Rosan, _but this was just a hologram,_ he thought.

"Now look upon the face of your defeat," the masked figure said. He removed the mask, but the face became blurred to Rosan and Tel'Mar. The floating man turned and looked down, gasping for life. His eyes darted around before falling upon the face, a look of sadness and anguish overcame it before relaxing. With a twist of the Sith's hand, the head snapped at an odd angle and the body dropped to the floor in the form of a crumpled carcass.

The holocron cut out and all that was left was the whirring of the holocron sucking back in the energy it had expelled. Rosan stood silently before realizing he had been completely still for the duration of the recording. Tel'Mar placed the holocron back under the glass and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, coming down to his level. He studied the boy's face before speaking again.

"You may think that skipping lessons and ignoring orders are a small infraction in the grand scheme of things that be, Rosan, but we are here for one purpose and one purpose only: to rebuild what was taken from us."

"Who was that, Tel'Mar? That masked man?"

"Someone close to Master Skywalker. A man whose pride and selfishness consumed him from the inside. The reason we are so few now is due to his actions. We are all capable of making the same mistakes that man made. You, Me, and every Jedi in this academy will be tempted by the dark side in our travels, but a Jedi knows their way through commitment to the light."

"But how could a man with such hatred be acquainted with Master Skywalker? He would never willingly engage with that, would he?"

"Master Skywalker is a good man and an even better teacher to all of us, my apprentice. You are correct. He would never willingly entertain the company of darkness if he had the choice… but the choice was not his to make," Tel'Mar said, standing back up straight and heading towards the door. Rosan followed him.

"Master?"

"It was his own father. Anakin Skywalker was the greatest Jedi of his time, but even the greatest are not fully protected by the enchantment of the Sith. Luke has given the Order permission to share his story to enlightenment as an ultimate act of success, failure, and redemption."

"Redemption? Anakin came back to the light?"

"Failure is not an absolute, young one. It is only the end of a chapter. It is up to the individual to determine whether it is the final chapter. Anakin saved Master Skywalker from a Dark Lord by destroying the him and sacrificing himself. He saved the Galaxy and gave the Alliance the momentum of victory."

Rosan paused for a moment and took his master's wisdom.

"The Emperor?" Rosan felt a chill run down his spine as this news struck him with a rush of bewilderment. "Master Skywalker's father served the Emperor…"

"Indeed, young one."

As they exited the library, the large red-orange gas giant took up a huge portion of the sky, swirling and morphing before their eyes. It covered the night in a slight reddish hue as the last of the Jedi began returning to their dormitories. Tel'Mar unhooked his lightsaber and held it in his hand. A smile crept across his face.

"You know, young one; I sense great things inside of you… But what troubles me the most is your brashness. Your _pride_. A Jedi doesn't take pride in themselves; a Jedi sees their influence in the balance of the Force. They choose to do good not because they feel it is necessary to earn respect and reward. They choose to do good simply because it is what the light wills."

The young apprentice looked down at his feet and a shame came over him. He sensed every word from his master he believed to be true, but also a feeling of disappointment underneath.

"Master, I want to do good."

"Then do good but know _why_ you do good."

He sighed, "I'm sorry for interrupting class. I don't want to be like Master Skywalker's father. In fact, I don't want to be the best like Master Skywalker. I want to be the best me."

"This is all I can ask of you, young one," Tel'Mar said with a grin and rubbed the boy's head.


	3. II

_I need only one thing of you…_

The Jedi was in complete darkness, but the voice came from all around him. The air grew heavy as the floor began to vibrate and he could taste a foulness on his tongue that subdued any other sense.

"Show yourself, spirit!" he barked nervously. A Jedi should know no fear, his master had always told him, they should only experience momentary uncertainty, then resolve. Resolution in this ancient abyssal tomb began to slip through his fingers like the dust and sand he had grasped instinctively as his will became a rodent in the present of a bantha, ready to squish the life from him.

_I cannot show you… you must see for yourself, my young apprentice._

"Apprentice?"

He felt the floor leave from under him, now just a hovering quasi-consciousness moving absurdly through the darkness. A diaspora of strange colors and seemingly nonexistent light danced flirtatiously through his non-vision; like shapes seen when one's eyes are closed, the electromagnetic background noise of the mind coming to fruition behind the lids of flesh.

"Get out of my head!"

He knew putting up a fight would do him no good. All his years of studying sacred texts couldn't have prepared him for the metaphysical fingers digging into his mind, erasing memories he had held dear for so many years. A familiar feminine face was slowly erased and turned to an absent void.

"No… no…"

_You are now mine. Everything you knew about the Jedi, everything you knew of your past life… They are now mine. The memory of your wife is mine. You will obey my every command and together… We will achieve greatness._

A small quiver escaped his lips. A slight string of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth and silently hit the dusty floor, dissolving into the darkness. He dropped to the floor and the room was silent. What little of his vision he had retained before was now returning and his came awake from his stupor. His head swiveling like a cockpit chair, the tomb occupant's presence was vacuumed out and the environment left a creamy calmness sweeter than his own mother's embrace.

Suddenly a panic set in. His mother… he tried to recall her face, her name… Nothing. An empty space in his mind. Not even the color of her hair he could picture. Nor his father, his brother, his master or his wife. His wife! He couldn't remember anything about them, or even if they existed! Who was he? He choked out air to speak his own name.

"My name is-"

Nothing, he smacked his lips searching for the words. He couldn't even recall his own identity. He reached for his belt like an extension of his being but couldn't remember why. He felt the urge to flee and did so. When he finally made it to the outside, he was panting in exhaustion.

It had grown dark.

The outline of his ship was visible along the horizon of the rising moons and he fled towards it in astounding speed. Entering the cockpit and flicking on all the right switches in the right order, it whirred to life and the high beams illuminated the world around it, revealing scampering critters that ran back to their holes. He switched on the communications array and grabbed the intercom, hands shaking. Before he spoke a word, he came to the realization that he didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even realize he had forgotten where he had come from. It was like a droid receiving a memory wipe, reset to only the basics. He switched off the array and thought for a long while.

He was a man on a mission. He left from an unknown location in search of something that had called to him in a dream. He was force-sensitive, that much he knew; a power he had felt since his early childhood. Was he a Jedi? He carried no lightsaber on him as far as he knew, nor did he believe that he had any training, nor any master he could recollect.

Lifting off, he flew into the night sky, gliding through the atmospheres into the exosphere and floated above the dead planet. What planet was it? The navigation computer brought up no information on where he was. Suddenly, the computer initiated its warmup phase of hyperspace travel. He watched silently as the stars warped into long strings of white light and then he disappeared into the familiar alternate dimension of blue 'light'.


End file.
